It wasn’t really necessary for him to be sitting here, holding a sleeping man in his arms, but the feel of it—a heart beating solidly against his chest, the softness of a sleeping man’s breath against his neck… He wasn’t about to end that too soon.
He’d found it necessary to shift once or twice when Chandler rustled against his cock, and even that, even being aroused with no release in sight, felt good.
“You’re just an armful of hot, aren’t you?” he whispered. “Hot man, hot water, hot mess.”
“Hmm?” Chandler tightened his arms and blinked. “I like your voice. Did I sleep?”
“I think you catnapped.” Steve smiled down at him.
“What did I miss?”
“Nothing really. The news. Apparently six people were arrested for starting a naked flashmob in the Glendale Galleria.”
“I’ve been to the Glendale Galleria. A naked flashmob could only improve it.”
Steve realized something. “You know? I don’t even know where you live.”
“Poway.” Chandler sat up, tucked himself in and zipped his pants. “Near San Diego.”
“That’s a long drive, to Pahrump.”
“Oh, fuck me, I forgot.” Chandler jumped up. “Did my phone ring while I was asleep?”
“No. I’d have woken you.”
“I’m going to call the hospital. I can’t believe I fell asleep like that.”
“I’ll go get that air mattress and pump it up, all right?”
Chandler waved his assent as he thumbed the keys of his BlackBerry, and maybe Steve felt a little dismissed. He turned to walk away but then a hand caught his. He glanced back at Chandler, who pulled him back for a kiss.
“Thank you.” Chandler aimed a series of quick, light kisses at various parts of Steve’s face. Steve felt his cheeks heat but let Chandler have control. “You saw exactly what I needed and gave it without asking for anything in return. Who does that?”
Steve looked down. He wasn’t much good at this part of things. “Apparently I do. It was just a handjob and a nap. You don’t have to be Dr. Phil to figure out that a guy might need that.”
Chandler squeezed his hand. “Don’t do that. You were magic. This whole night, you’ve been so good to us.”
Steve took the compliment like a man, didn’t even utter the aw, shucks that wanted so badly to escape him. “Thank you.”
Chandler pressed another kiss to his forehead and Steve figured he’d better go before he started grinning like a clown. Because that was so going to happen, and then he’d have to kill himself.
“I’ll just go get…”
Chandler nodded and took the phone in the direction of the kitchen. “Yes, this is Chandler Tracey and I believe my sister Courtney Wallace is in labor and delivery…”
Steve got the air mattress out of the coat closet and plugged in the pump. While it inflated, he tried to hide his curiosity, tried to quell his certainty that he was already in too deep.
Chandler came back into the living room yawning, but he dropped onto the couch beside Steve with a sigh that sounded like relief.
“So?”
“So. They stopped her labor—we’ve got a reprieve for a while—but it’s going to be touch and go. I talked to Courtney’s husband and he said she’s going to stay in the hospital until they stabilize her blood pressure. It’s not going to be easy on her. But the good news is she and the baby are both okay.”
“Is there anything you need to do?”
“No. My mom and dad are expected to land any minute and they’ll take a cab directly to the house and relieve the person who’s watching the kids. They’re going to stay as long as they’re needed.”
“So you’re really going to spend Christmas with me?”
Chandler yawned again. “Yep. You’re stuck with us.”
“C’mon.” Steve disconnected the pump from the air mattress after testing it for doneness.
“This is cooked. Let’s get it in to the guest room and I’ll give you some linens.”
They maneuvered the twin-size inflatable bed down the hall and Steve held it while Chandler carefully removed the bells from the door. He barely whispered as he put them down on the floor. “These bells are genius, by the way. I was able to relax in a way I didn’t believe I could.”
Steve put the bed on the far side of the guest room and then left to find bedding. When he returned, he tossed pillows and cases to Chandler. He got it made up not a second too soon. The smudges under Chandler’s eyes looked like bruises.
“Get a good night’s sleep.” Steve flashed on the feel of Chandler’s cock in his hands, the memory of feeling him fly apart in his arms. He leaned against the door as Chandler took off his shoes and socks.
“You’ve even got great feet.”
“No.” Chandler looked down then back up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Perfect everything, if you ask me… Sleep well, lots to do tomorrow.”
“What?” Chandler tucked his socks into his shoes and got up.
“I didn’t decorate my house this year because I thought I wouldn’t be home. But now I have to. It’s a matter of honor.”
“Ah.” Chandler came toward him, a wicked slow grin on his lips. “Honor.”
“Yeah. I have a reputation to live up to.”
“I see.” Chandler trapped him against the wall and kissed him again. The man did some fine kissing. Probably more than anyone Steve had been with for a while. He liked it. “Maybe tomorrow you’ll tell me why you were running away from all this to spend Christmas in Las Vegas?”
Steve’s lips still tingled when Chandler pulled away. “I will. If you still want to know.”
“I want to know everything about you.” Chandler’s lips met his again, sure and strong.
“Okay.” Steve backed out the door, took a last look in. He wasn’t the kind of guy who wondered about fate too much. He didn’t think looking a gift horse in mouth was a great idea. Horses had disgusting mouths for the most part.
But Chandler was another matter. Chandler’s mouth was sweet and supple. He sucked on Steve’s tongue like a promise and invited Steve to fuck his mouth with his own tongue until he was ready to spin him around, right there, and fuck him for real against the wall of his guest room.
And it was for damned sure Poppy wouldn’t sleep through that.
“’Night.”
Chandler’s eyes were tired and he looked punch drunk. A little confused. “’Night.”
Steve closed the door behind him and managed not to curse until he got to his own room.
“Fuck. Me.” He threw himself on the bed and held an imaginary conversation. “No, Chandler. I’m serious…I really mean it. Fuck me.”
Chapter Seven
When Steve woke up the aroma that teased him was…pancakes. It wasn’t that unusual for him to wake up to someone cooking in his kitchen, mostly because his relatives were frequent houseguests and they all knew he couldn’t be bothered with cooking breakfast. But to open an eye and see Chandler and Poppy trooping into his room with coffee and pancakes on a tray, that was…
Chandler froze in the doorway even as Poppy bounced up onto his bed. “Oh, please tell me you have pants on.”
“I do.” Steve froze for a second, then got up holding a pillow over his morning wood. Look normal. Act natural. “I should go brush my teeth and put on a T-shirt and then we can…uh…”
Chandler’s face had caught fire at some point, maybe when it first occurred to him that some men don’t wear clothing to bed, or maybe when he realized Steve was hiding his boner.
“I…oh.”
Steve wanted to die of shame.
“Uncle Chandler thought you should have breakfast in bed for being so nice.” Poppy spoke up as she luxuriated in his bed. She’d already dragged a nest of pillows around her and was lounging in them.
“It’s pretty easy to be nice to you guys,” Steve said easily as he left for his bathroom. To himself he whispered, “Boundaries would be good, thou
gh.”
Once he closed the door he heard some furious whispering, and then Chandler called out to him. “We’ll be in the kitchen. When you’re ready, we forgot…butter.”
“No butter on mine, thanks.” Steve wondered if they heard. He sighed when the door to the hallway from his bedroom closed. While he took the fastest shower on record, he couldn’t help grinning.
Chandler was new to all this, but his heart was in the right place. Maybe a day or two spent in the company of the Adams family would loosen him up a little. If nothing else, it might provide him with a distraction from the grief and fear Steve sensed in his heart. Plus, with other people around to help him look after Poppy, he might actually get a couple more good nights’ sleep.
* * *
Chandler put some melted butter on Steve’s pancakes while he rethought heading for his sister’s place in Seattle, and his mother. She had more sense than to burst into a strange man’s bedroom with a five-year-old girl in tow. Steve came into the kitchen, showered—by the look of him—and fully dressed. He glanced at Poppy, who was watching cartoons on a tiny television set mounted under a kitchen cabinet.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for barging in on you like that.”
“No problem.” Steve picked up his coffee, which was probably cold by then. Shoot.
“I admit I wasn’t thinking. It never occurred to me she’d leap up on your bed.”
Steve lifted his hand and shot him a sweet smile. “Most people start with infants, Chandler. While they’re needy little monsters, they don’t get far on foot. Give yourself some time, okay? I don’t have kids but I’ve had plenty of opportunities to practice. It takes a while to get used to thinking like a kid. I promise you’ll be great. You’re a natural.”
Chandler looked over at Poppy and knew doubt was written all over his face. He pressed his lips together but when he met Steve’s eyes, it was obvious Steve knew what he was thinking. He didn’t know if he could do it. He’d been on his way to his mom’s place for Christmas, in part for a break from responsibility, yes, but also…
“You wanted to feed me some pancakes?”
Chandler looked down at his hands, still holding Steve’s plate. “Oh, here are yours.”
Steve took them from him. “I’m so sorry. I meant to tell you. I can’t have the butter on this. I have to watch what I eat and—”
“Oh no. I’m sorry.” Chandler switched their plates. “I’ll eat these and you can have mine. I…I thought I heard you say to put butter on yours.”
“No. I said ‘no butter’ but it doesn’t matter, thank you for these. Hey. Did I have blueberries?”
“Um.” Chandler flushed again. “Those are currants. You had dried currants.”
“I see.” Steve looked at his pancakes.
“I don’t know how to cook. I’ve never tried dried currant pancakes. I’ve never even heard of them. Now I wonder if that isn’t a bad sign. Currants simply seemed more…”
“Festive?” Steve offered.
Chandler nodded.
Steve grinned. “They are that. Festive and fun…” He took a big bite and Chandler saw him blink.
“Oh, they suck, don’t they?” Chandler glanced at Poppy, who’d picked a neat pile of dried currants out of her pancakes and was just starting to eat the remains.
“These are okay but they look like bugs,” she said. “And they don’t go with syrup.”
Chandler nodded, afraid he was going to cry.
“But that doesn’t mean they’re bad, exactly.” Steve washed his down with a swig of coffee.
Chandler put his plate on the counter. “I don’t suppose you can tell me why it matters so much to me one way or the other.”
Steve shrugged. “I can’t.”
“I tell you what. What if Poppy and I take you out for breakfast?”
“Nonsense. We have work to do. These are fine.”
“I don’t mind if you pick the currants out.”
“Not a chance, boy.” Steve took another manful bite while Chandler explored why the word ‘boy,’ spoken in that rich, bittersweet-chocolate voice of Steve’s got him hot every damned time. “I’m eating the pancakes you made for me.”
Chandler felt his cheeks heat again. “Thanks.”
The smile that Steve flashed him held the hint of a serious leer. “You’re entirely welcome.”
Chandler leaned in and lowered his voice. “You know, when you say it like that, those words sound like an indecent proposal…”
Just as Steve was leaning in for a kiss, his phone rang.
Shoot.
“Hello?”
Chandler watched Steve’s expressive face as he listened to his caller.
“Yeah, I decided not to go. Well, I met someone on the way and we came back here.”
Chandler tried not to eavesdrop, but he wondered who Steve was talking to.
“No. Nothing like that…seriously…Okay, well. Yeah…” Ah. There went Steve’s cheeks, darkening with a pretty healthy flush. “He has a kid with him, so…No. Of course not. He’s the uncle. There’s no wife. You are such a…Okay, I’ll hold on…” Steve covered the receiver with his hand. “Kelly. My sister. Somebody needed talking to—” he frowned, “—or killing.”
Chandler blinked in surprise. “Should we—”
Steve shook his head a little. “Yeah…He did what? Ha-ha. That sounds like him. I’m about to make your day. I’ve got to decorate, how about you send the big ones over here for a while?”
Chandler started to say he was prepared to help and they didn’t need to recruit someone but Steve held out his hand.
“Cool…Yeah. Yeah…No, you can come too, he’ll probably want to meet you after he meets your kids.” Steve chuckled. “Role model? Hell no. I can only do object lesson.” He replaced the phone in the charger. “My sister is coming in a few minutes with her three oldest. They’ll help us put up the lights and the big decorations, but we still need to see about getting a tree.”
“You don’t need to go to all this trouble for us.”
“Mostly it’s for Poppy.” Steve glanced at her, and his eyes softened right up. “For some reason she makes me feel like it’s finally Christmas. It just goes to show, if you need a little Christmas, it always pays to find someone who needs it more.”
* * *
Steve should have warned Chandler about the Adams Family Christmas, but most people who’d never seen it firsthand passed the warnings off as a joke. Kelly knocked smartly on the door with a big festively wrapped tray full of what she called “health yummies” and took over the introductions herself.
“Hi.” She stuck her hand out at Chandler, obviously delighted to meet the man he’d brought home at last. Steve didn’t blame her—he’d taken to sneaking them in and out in the dead of night rather than subject them to the scrutiny of his well-meaning family. “I’m Kelly, and this bunch is Clark, Andrew and Meghan.”
All three kids were dressed in jeans and an assortment of Christmas T-shirts. They wore Santa hats and all looked exactly like Kelly. The entire Adams family, actually, seemed cloned, except the spouses. The Adams genes prevailed against all comers…figuratively speaking.
Three pairs of blue eyes studied Chandler. Steve thought the kids’ brains might be melting like a wax landscape under an incandescent flashing billboard that read This is Uncle Steve’s Boyfriend and They Have SEX.
“So. You guys know the drill. Why don’t you three go move the truck out and start staging areas in the driveway?” Steve pulled a set of keys off a hook on the wall, then tossed them to Clark, the oldest, who caught them neatly.
“Got it.” Clark grinned. As if they were in some holiday army, the three of them marched out the front door together.
“Kelly, could you take Poppy out to the garage and supervise? Tell them I’m going to need the indoor things. If you could ask Clark to bring those down from the shelves in the loft?”
“Sure. No problem.” Kelly smiled at Poppy and held out her hand.
Poppy looked to Chandler for permission…or maybe for reassurance.
Chandler nodded toward Kelly. “You can go with her, Poppy. I’ll be right here.”
Steve nodded. “I need to talk to Uncle Chandler for a few minutes, and then we’ll be right out.” He gave up on trying to eat and picked up his coffee mug. Kelly took Poppy’s hand and they left the way the teens had.
“She’ll be okay with them, right? I mean, your sister won’t mind having Poppy tag along?”
“Kelly loves kids. She’ll be fine.”
Steve could see the tension leave Chandler’s body the minute he realized he was off the clock. It reminded him of how Chandler had melted beneath his hands the night before. He put his coffee cup down.
“You know…” Steve began, “we’re actually alone right now.”
* * *
Chandler glanced around nervously. “But they could come back in at any time.”
Steve’s smile struck him like a lit match and ignited something pretty reckless inside his gut, a slow fuse, burning anticipation and desire in equal measure. “Yeah.”
Steve grabbed his hand and led him through a door at the end of the kitchen into a cramped room, like an old-fashioned pantry with shelves full of staples and weird kitchen gadgets, a vintage metal meat grinder and one of those big bar juicers with the lever you pulled down to squeeze oranges.
“This place,” Steve told him, “has the added beauty of a sliding lock, which I installed very high up when I realized that sometimes I might need a time-out more than my nephews and nieces do.”
Without saying another word, Steve fell to his knees and tugged Chandler’s pants open. “Oh, my word, you smell so good.” He pulled his wallet out and tugged out a condom, even as he nuzzled his face into Chandler’s pubic hair, just above his balls.
His for the Holidays Page 27